


Temptations of Infuriation

by bYeFeliciaah



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Art Shows, Bar, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Season 3, but they’re both just lonely, eleanor shows up to her art exhibition all supportive, eleanors her bitchy self, tahanis entitled, tequila and shrimp, they're kinda scarred from their childhoods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bYeFeliciaah/pseuds/bYeFeliciaah
Summary: ‘“We all have things we find fun, and mine happens to be getting shit faced off tequila. Alone.” Eleanor finished the statement with a slamming of the bathroom door, and she was left with this off sort of silence. Like traces of gunpowder left in the air after shooting a gun, but instead, Eleanor’s weighted words.’Tahani can’t stand Eleanor, but when she starts getting to know her better, she realises she might’ve been a little prejudiced.





	1. Tequila and Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, I kinda ship Chidi and Eleanor but I’m a slut for Tahani and Eleanor. Also who reads straight fan fiction lets be real 🤧 this was inspired by the scene from the office (not that I’m a regular watcher) where Pam has her art show and only Michael shows up xo

Infuriating. That’s simply how Tahani found Eleanor Shellstrop’s brash, socially unaware and foul attitude. Extremely infuriating. It wasn’t just about her social class—even if that did play a part, she supposed, after all; if she’d been raised in a better background there would be no room for that terrible attitude of hers. And yet, Jason didn’t quite act the way she did. Perhaps he was a bit of an idiot, but he wasn’t too loud, didn’t make snide remarks about people as they passed on the street, and he certainly didn’t get wasted and mouth off to bartenders.

Tahani didn’t know how she’d even allowed herself to be dragged out to this dingy bar. The tacky, fake leather of the chairs was an insult to her designer dress, the tables were sticky with beer and the faded carpeting had a number of stains one could only assume was...vomit. It was all rather overwhelming and, quite frankly, disgusting.

She thought Chidi might’ve been able to relate to her strife, might’ve fussed about one of his many dull jumpers getting an aroma of beer, fussed about the rowdy patrons and the choices of seats. But, he seemed rather content sipping at a foamy beer, leaning into his seat and talking over the dreadful music with Simone.

Tahani was alone, watching Jason attempt throwing darts after Chidi had given up on his Jacksonville version of pool, and sneering at Eleanor as she leant over the bar; slurring at the bartender with an edge to her voice. “It’s my birthday. Can’t you just remove everything else from the margarita but the tequila and pour it into a couple a shot glasses?”

“We already gave you a margarita, Miss,” The bartender spoke back with a clipped tone, arms folded across his chest defiantly, “Two actually, considering you asked another staff member when I wasn’t looking. The sign says one free margarita.”

“Give a girl a break, it’s my birthday!”

Rolling her eyes at the scene, Tahani blocked out the sound of Eleanor’s tinny voice, focusing on the details of a beer mat.

Becoming a better person proved to be hard when she was surrounded by a bunch of dimwits, lowly dimwits at that. She supposed Chidi was smart, but his overanalysing drove Tahani insane. Simone was quite clever too, but she was too blunt, a different sort of straightforward to Eleanor, but unsettling nonetheless.

Tahani was the only one with a bit of class, the only one who didn’t settle for dodgy bars and rundown motels. She was alone.

“Hey there, Hot Stuff. Want a shot of tequila?” Eleanor sidled into the booth, slinging an arm over the back of the seat and brushing against Tahani’s shoulder. She pushed down the urge to swat it away.

“I’m quite alright, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Shrugging, Eleanor reached for one of the shots and downed it without even a hint of a grimace.

Tahani watched as she grabbed another, drinking it like it was pure water. She was dressed down in jeans and a sweater, quite appalling if she did say so herself. Her hair was tousled, a lace untied, Tahani wrinkled up her nose in distaste.

“What’re you staring at?” Eleanor snapped, eyes narrowing.

“I just don’t understand how you can be so...” Tahani flapped her arms about. For the first time in her life she felt as if she couldn’t find a word to describe the situation, even Margaret Atwood had been impressed by her array of vocabulary—“Like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She spoke back defensively, leaning in closer and pushing Tahani further into the seat. Gosh, if her dress wasn’t creased by the end of the night, she was sure an angel was watching over her.

She thought of a way to describe the aura that surrounded the petite woman, who’s chaotic personality more than made up for her height. “You act, out of a lack of a better word, so...”

“Sloppy? Like a mess? Don’t worry, I’ve heard it all before,” She said nonchalantly, leaning back a tad and blindly reaching for Chidi’s beer. He gave her an affronted look as she took a slow, deliberate sip, smacking her lips together and sighing audibly.

“I was going to say haphazard,” Tahani protested, flinching back as Eleanor waved her hand in indifference.

“Potato-potato.”

The table descended into a strange silence, before Jason came over shouting about how he’d beaten a man at darts and Eleanor and Simone were cheering and Chidi patting him on the back and Tahani felt trapped in a moment she didn’t understand. A moment where time seemed to stand still and all she could hear were shouts and terrible music and all she could smell was tequila and beer. A moment she wasn’t welcome in - the story of her life really. Like a bystander watching something happen, distant and out of frame.

“Are you okay, Tahani?” Simone asked quietly whilst Eleanor rushed off to see evidence that he’d actually won and Chidi watched them over his shoulder with a grin.

Blinking as if to bring herself back to reality, to reign in her wandering thoughts, she regarded Simone with a faux smile, “Yes, yes, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? You seem a little lost.”

“I’m just quite tired is all,” She emphasised the point with a yawn—a graceful one, of course—and what she knew was a sleepy blink. She’d used it plenty of times at gala’s and family parties when Kamilah was stealing the attention of the room and the frown on her face had no justification but merely a ruse of exhaustion.

“Okay girl.” Simone nodded as if in understanding, before getting caught up with the group.

When Jason finally sat down and Tahani worked her way into the conversation—she wasn’t a social outcast, even if she felt a little out of place, socialising was her forte—Eleanor headed off to the bar again. She watched her slump over a stool, calling for the bartender with an evil sort of grin. How somebody so small could come across so intimidating had her stumped (not to Tahani of course, nobody could intimidate _her_).

She stayed there for a while, thwarting any advances made by old men and calling for shots. It was long enough for Chidi to get up and ask her to come back to the table, and yet she resisted, gripping at the bar as if she feared he’d try to carry her away. Tahani presumed it was merely to stay close to the alcohol.

Now, Tahani liked to think she was the bigger person in all situations. So, despite her dislike for Eleanor; when she whisked off to the bathroom with a salute, Tahani agreed to talking her into sitting with them. It wasn’t like she necessarily wanted her there. If she was selfish enough to sit alone and fill up the tab with countless shots and margaritas, let her be alone, but everybody else seemed to want her there, and so Tahani took one for the team, so to speak.

“Hey, Sexy Skyscraper,” Eleanor greeted as they made eye contact in one of the grubby mirrors, the ‘hey’ dragged out as she messed with her hair.

“Hello, Eleanor.” She folded her hands across her dress protectively, eyeing the wretched cubicles and tiny sinks with a slight frown. _ Frown lines _, she warned herself, smoothing her features into something neutral.

“Fancy seeing you here,” She joked, barging open one of the doors and slamming it shut. Tahani could hear the sound of a zipper, and the shuffling of fabric against skin.

“Well, I came to enquire about why one, specifically you, would choose to sit alone rather than with welcoming acquaintances,” Tahani spoke somewhat hesitantly. She didn’t quite know the social etiquette of a conversation with one of the participants sitting on the loo.

“Seriously, Tahani?” The sound of Eleanor urinating accompanied her disbelieving tone, “This isn’t nineteenth century England.”

“I came to...ask, yes, ask why you aren’t sitting with us,” She corrected, raising a finger in the air in thought.

Eleanor grunted in response, a fed up grunt as the sound of toilet paper rattling in the plastic container associated with public bathrooms echoed against the ceramic tiles. An ugly clash of colours, Tahani noted.

A silence followed as she finished her business and opened the stall door. Tahani half expected her to leave without washing her hands, but was relieved when she crossed over to the sinks, squirting a considerate amount of soap in her palm and pushing against the tap. “I don’t do group things,” She muttered finally, running her hands under the steady stream of strong water. Too strong; Tahani felt a splash against her arm and stepped back to avoid ruining her dress. She watched in mild horror as the water splashed onto Eleanor’s sleeves, but the blonde seemed unbothered.

“Why on Earth not? Isolating yourself will only lead to loneliness.” Perhaps it was out of experience, Tahani felt lonely most of the time, despite the number of _friends_ she had. Well known friends at that. Both Beyoncé and Taylor Swift had fought over the title as her best friend at the same time, after all!

“That’s just who I am.”

“Sitting in a bar alone, shouting at bartenders to con them out of drinks and drinking yourself under the table is who you are?” Tahani scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m not surprised you needed Chidi.”

“You think you’re better than me because you’re sat out there all prim and proper, refusing any drink because you think the glasses have STDs or something. But you’re here in Sydney for the same reason as the rest of us, Tahani A- Al-Jamaica...” Eleanor trailed off, the bite to her voice losing its ferocity with the fumbling over her name. She was close, likely standing on her toes to seem taller, and Tahani could smell the tequila on her breath.

“Jamil. Al-Jamil,” She reminded, exasperation clear in her tone.

“Whatever. Anyway, you’re not a great person or anything, just because you’re a stuck up bitch.”

“You’re in no place to judge.” Lifting her chin, Tahani looked down on Eleanor with a sharp glare she only used when somebody had particularly irritated her. Never in public, of course, the paparazzi would have a field trip with that one.

“And you’re in no place to judge either, Tahani Al-Jonah Hill,” She spoke her name with a smug sort of confidence.

“_Jamil_,” She reiterated through clenched teeth. “At least I raise money for charities and put something out into the world. What do you put out? Tequila bottles and plastic shrimp containers?”

“Sorry I don’t enjoy rubbing elbows with a bunch of fake people in suits and gowns, raising money for my own appearance.” Eleanor was pointing a finger dangerously close to her face, shiny with water. She could smell a hint of cheap soap. “You don’t care about the charities you give your money away to, that’s why you’re here.”

Tahani made to talk, her mouth opening and shutting a few times, horrified by her own lack of eloquence. Perhaps it was the truth that had her speechless.

“We all have things we find fun, and mine happens to be getting shit faced off tequila. Alone.” Eleanor finished the statement with a slamming of the bathroom door, and she was left with this off sort of silence. Like traces of gunpowder left in the air after shooting a gun, but instead, Eleanor’s weighted words and the sharp tone with which she spoke them...or rather, yelled them.

When she left the bathroom, Eleanor had gone, no trace left but for a ten dollar bill on the table. “So I guess you didn’t get through to her?”

“No, I did not,” Tahani said quietly, staring at the face of Banjo Peterson in all his fedora glory. The table looked stunned, probably hearing the shortest sentence they’d ever heard from her.

“She seemed pretty angry, mate,” Simone commented, unhelpfully in her opinion.

“I’m quite aware, Simone. If that’s all, I think I’ll take my leave.” Tahani brushed down her spotless dress, quirking her lips up at the table as she took a step backwards.

“You’re leaving too?” Chidi’s gaze was full of concern.

“Yes, I believe I am. I need my beauty sleep and all.” She eyed the bar one last time, glad to be leaving the broken plaster on the walls, the carpet that insulted the bottom of her Louboutins. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Tahani’s room(s) felt painfully empty. The expensive furniture did nothing to fill the space in the atmosphere, and neither did the many things she’d brought along to remind her of home. She was beginning to feel that maybe it wasn’t the room itself, but something to do with herself.

Staring up at the ceiling with her Louboutin clad feet hanging over the edge of her king sized bed, Tahani inhaled sharply, holding her breath as she studied the ridges above. She saw one that looked like a face; scrunched up in a grotesque looking frown, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowing. Not knowing whether it looked furious or melancholy, whether she was furious or melancholy, Tahani settled for crying.

She was sure her makeup was running, her sheets getting streaked with black mascara, but for once...she didn’t care. There was no sound escaping her mouth, only sharp breaths and silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

With the night sky to cast a veil over her, the moon hidden behind clouds to stop light from reaching in, curtains drawn, complete solitude was achieved. That was the only safe time to cry.

She had a message from Chidi to let him know when she was back at the b&b (which was actually a mansion), the words blurred across the screen as she typed out a response half-heartedly.

Why she was crying, Tahani wasn’t quite sure. Maybe it was the words Eleanor had spoken, the truth of them, maybe the idea of the group falling apart due to some stupid tensions between herself and somebody who was barely worth her time. Perhaps it was the reminder that she was completely alone.

Tahani couldn’t get the smell of tequila off her mind, the terrible lighting that couldn’t even prevent the flaming anger in Eleanor’s eyes from burning through their icy blue exterior. She’d only been trying to get her involved. Maybe nothing Tahani did would be right.

Feeling a bit foolish, lying flat on her bed with a tear streaked face, Tahani rushed off to the bathroom to avoid any eye puffiness. How treacherous that would turn out to be. She felt lonely as she brushed her teeth and imagined somebody beside her, and when she was tucked beneath her sheets, the other side of the bed felt painfully cold.

This was going to be an empty stay at Sydney, she just hoped she found some form of companionship with the group before it became too much.

* * *

It was decidedly too warm in Australia. She’d lived in Barcelona for a time, but Spain couldn’t possibly rival the dry heat that seemed to choke Tahani as she stepped out of the air conditioned ‘b&b’. The trip to the university was bearable, if only because of the open windows letting in a steady breeze.

The streets of Sydney passed by in a blur of hot bodies and glass buildings reflecting the sun as she thought over the events of the night before. The most haunting of the night had to be the state of that awful bar, though somewhere deep down she supposed the argument with Eleanor had bothered her. _ Was _ bothering her.

It was a strange situation, feeling _guilty_ somewhat. Tahani tried to convince herself she had nothing to be guilty for, she’d merely stated the truth, though perhaps digging at the woman’s less appeasing attributes may not have been the best course of action in getting her to socialise with the group.

Realising herself, Tahani shook her head. Eleanor had been brusque and rude that evening, spending her time alone rather than with welcoming people, and she’d only left a ten dollar bill at the end of the night (certainly not enough to cover the seemingly countless shots of tequila she’d had). Her actions were justified. That was the mindset she stuck with on the journey, unfaltering and further rekindled by the time spent dwelling on every bad thing about her.

The first thing Tahani saw when she stepped inside their usual room was a determined Eleanor making her way over at a quick pace, little legs moving as fast as they possibly could. She was mildly scared for a moment.

“Look, I came to apologise.” She punctuated the statement with a harsh nod, jutting her chin up as if to maintain some semblance of pride. It didn’t work that effectively, considering her height, and the dark circles under her eyes. She thought she saw a wince as Eleanor’s gaze caught the bright lights on the ceiling, effects of a hangover no doubt.

Now_ that _had been unexpected.

“I may not have the best temper when I let myself drink too much tequila-– and there, I’m using excuses again, Chidi talked to me about this. Anyway, I guess I was a bit...out of line.” Rubbing the back of her neck, Eleanor regraded Tahani with a sheepish look, a sparkle of hope in her eyes.

“Yes, you were,” She offered up in response, an instinctual response when she thought about it.

Breathing deeply, Eleanor ran a hand through blonde locks, muttering under her breath before facing her with a resolute gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Tahani forced a stiff smile, watching two brows rise in surprise before dipping into a furrow.

“Um...are you going to say anything else?” She pushed, a look of disbelief crossing her features as she folded her arms in a defensive gesture and leant her weight on one foot.

“What more could there possibly be to say?” Tahani questioned, an ignorance that’d replaced any and all feelings of guilt she might’ve felt on the journey over. Eleanor was infuriating, at moments like these.

“Really? So, everything you said last night was all sweetness and light?”

“Well, I wouldn’t suppose it was either of those. Just the truth, perhaps.” Shrugging half-heartedly, Tahani watched as her expression shifted into an angry scowl, a bit like the face she’d made out in her ceiling the night before.

“Do you know what? I retract my apology!” Eleanor declared, loudly enough to attract the attention of Chidi, who’d been tinkering about with the—likely philosophy—books on his desk. “I spoke the truth too, and I’m not going to apologise for it.”

“You just did,” She reminded, blissfully unaware of the clenching of Eleanor’s fist.

“I retracted that apology, it doesn’t count!” Whining like a petulant child, Eleanor settled for a biting glare that looked rather...adorable, of course only for the height of her. And the fact that calling her adorable would in fact be an insult, rather than a compliment.

“I’m not sure that’s how it w-“

“Nope. Don’t wanna hear it. I retracted my apology, and now I can’t stand to see your annoying, attractive face.” Huffing one last time, she stomped off with a grumble about legs and stupid, floral dresses that brought out the pink in cheeks. Oh, and something about ‘entitled dicks with sticks so far up their asses they walk around like characters from a Jane Austen book wearing the tightest corsets’. Tahani was just rather surprised she knew the name Jane Austen and the fact that she wrote novels.

_ Well, that was peculiar._ Shaking her head as if in a stupor—resembling a lead character in a romantic comedy she was certain—Tahani looked at Eleanor’s retreating form and scoffed. Retracting an apology? She’d never heard anything so ridiculous. Of course everything she said was rather ridiculous.

Trying to avoid looking at somebody she had to spend an entire day with proved to be rather difficult. And Eleanor was just so infuriating. It was ridiculous; how riled up she made her feel. Tahani was excellent at remaining composed, she’d done it her entire life, and that may have been the only thing preventing her from yelling at Eleanor every time she spoke.

It wasn’t until she was lying flat on her back, short, blonde strands of hair about her head like a halo; a sort of paradox really, a juxtaposition, or some strange irony, that Tahani allowed herself to look at her. Eleanor, what some would argue as the devil incarnate (that some being Tahani, and maybe dress bitch and a few bartenders) with a halo. You could say she was a fallen angel, yet she’d never really been of angel status, not that Tahani knew her before a couple of weeks ago.

Maybe the angel could’ve been her as an infant, or a young child, and she was corrupted at a young age. She didn’t like thinking about it like that. It gave Eleanor some humanity, warranted her some sympathy even, and as far as Tahani knew...Eleanor was just a selfish bitch who couldn’t take responsibility for any of her bad actions. She didn’t want her to have a background that excused any of the negative energy she put out into the world, and so Tahani ditched the whole fallen angel thing and stuck with the whole bitch definition. She didn’t even know how she’d ended up studying her long enough to come up with this whole metaphor, and so she averted her eyes towards the duo currently shuffling with papers and discussing the experiment quietly between them.

“Okay, let’s ask some simple questions.” Chidi spoke loudly as everyone watched Eleanor shuffle about in the odd machine Tahani hated the look of. The gold brassiere she was wearing might not have been the best idea, but glamour came before everything. “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Um...green?”

Tahani wanted to gag. She probably liked that ugly, khaki green. Or maybe the sort of neon green painted on walls with those spray cans that people used illegally.

“Okay, favourite book?”

Laughing under her breath, she watched Eleanor’s face contort in thought. Chidi honestly thought that women did any sort of reading in her downtime?

“Probably...’Good Morning, Midnight’, Jean Rhys,” She supplied, foot fidgeting impatiently, shoes knocking together in a steady: _ thump, thump, thump_. It drove her insane.

“Wow, that’s quite depressing, Eleanor,” Simone barked out, hiding a laugh behind her hand. It was rather depressing, but Tahani was caught up in the knowledge that the blonde knew any form of literature, let alone a pre twenty-first century novel about a lonely, middle-aged woman.

“What can I say? I like my books like I like my men; depressed and hardly there.” That received a grin from Simone, but Chidi seemed caught up on something else, and Tahani was just, quite frankly, thrown. Damn her presumptuous mind for always assuming the worst in people.

“I thought your favourite book was Kendall Jenner’s Instagram feed?” Chidi questioned, seemingly very distressed about it.

“Potato-potato,” Eleanor said in response, and she was shot back to being blocked in that treacherous booth with the shorter woman pushed up against her, offering her tequila shots.

“What?! They’re in no way sim-“

“What was your favourite movie as a child?” Simone cut in, giving Chidi a pointed look as she focused on the task, rather than focusing on whatever lies Eleanor told about her favourite book.

“Some violent action movie I suppose,” Tahani couldn’t help from snorting out (in a feminine manner), watching Eleanor roll her eyes in that awful contraption she’d been dreading getting near.

She seemed to hesitate, breath catching as she looked up as if trying to will herself to speak. “It was Matilda.”

_ Matilda_? Tahani couldn’t imagine Eleanor watching anything of the sort! “What, did you wish you had those evil powers to push over kids in the playground?”

“Nah, I think it was the whole neglectful parent thing I related too. I just never got my Miss Honey.” The crack in her voice seemed to echo across the room. Tahani felt a lump forming in her throat as Eleanor clasped her hands together tightly, fingers twisting amongst themselves until they became hard to tell apart; a scrunched up cloth with creases at the curving points. “Anyway, why are we talking about movies? I don’t know how this helps.”

“Your parents were neglectful?” Simone questioned lightly, leaning towards the screen to look at the image of Eleanor’s brain, painted in colour.

“Oh, yeah. I looked after them more than they looked after me. I got them to sign emancipation papers for my birthday, though. So all was good.” Eyes darting across the room, they met Tahani’s for a split second, before settling on the machine above her. “I’ve always just...got along by myself. So this whole group thing is new to me.”

_Oh gosh_, now she felt awful. She supposed this was what true guilt felt like. All that ran through her mind was fallen angel. Realising her mistake, her utterly stupid mistake in judging Eleanor so quickly, Tahani excused herself from the room. Placing a hand to her head in true dramatic fashion, she leant against a wall in the empty hallway and tried to rid her mind of any thought of the woman. Maybe she really did deserve to be here, learning how to become a better person.

It didn’t help that the pang of her own parents disinterest in her still drove her every action. Drove her to seeking success and approval from everybody but the people that mattered. Still captained the ship that was her life. It didn’t help that she now had something in common with Eleanor, something she could sympathise with and— perhaps she’d made an awful mistake.

When she walked back inside, they were discussing trolley carts and erectile dysfunction ads. Tahani felt conscious of the way she was standing, of the way her hair lay against her shoulders.

It was stupid, this constant back and forth; like she was having some moral argument inside of her head. The truth of it still stood: Eleanor was a selfish bitch. But maybe _ she _ was a bit of a bitch, too. And maybe she owed her an apology. It was a cold day in hell for Tahani to admit she was wrong, especially apologising for it. Chidi’s lessons must’ve been rubbing off on her.

“Hello, Eleanor.” She’d barely gotten off the machine for a minute before Tahani had her backed into a corner. She raised a skeptical brow, almost smirking at the greeting. “I suppose I’m slightly regretful for pointing out your lesser attributes last night, and forcing them into that dreadful bathroom lighting. You are just a woman with few opportunities and a lesser fortune, and I’m merely a woman too...although I’m rich, and beautiful, we’re not all that different.”

“Wow, look at that, Hot Stuff,” Eleanor barked out, hand clasped over her mouth in a mixture of amusement and shock. “We’ve finally found something you’re worse at than me, other than downing ten tequila shots in a row, or eating a tray of shrimp in under fifteen seconds, or avoiding paying rent for several months, or...right, I’m getting off track. Apologising!”

Tahani managed a splutter, feeling herself getting a little flustered, whether from anger or something else she didn’t know. “What? You’re not better at apologising than me!”

“I actually managed to say sorry,” Eleanor reminded with a shrug, brushing passed her to sit on the lone table in the room. They were taking a break before Jason had a go at getting his brain scanned, and the rest of the room was chatting over Eleanor’s results.

“I suppose you’re right,” Tahani conceded, if only to avoid conflict. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry.”

If the smile she received in response was any sign, Tahani would’ve guessed she’d done something right. She liked doing things right. Taking a seat next to the petite blonde, she watched her legs kick out and fall back against the table; seemingly miles away from the floor.

“Was it my sob story that swayed you?” She pondered after a few seconds of silence. Tahani could feel the warmth from Eleanor’s arm, a few centimetres away from her own.

“I suppose it helped. I realised I’d been rather ignorant, and didn’t consider why, perhaps, you might’ve wanted to be alone.”

“Oh, that. I just wanted the tequila.” Eleanor added unhelpfully, earning a jab from Tahani’s elbow.

“Don’t deflect, Eleanor,” She warned, watching her from the corner of her eye.

“Don’t start getting all buddy buddy with me, now that that’s out of the way,” She moved away a few inches, voice filled with contempt. “You’re still an arrogant, stuck-up bitch, you know?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. And you’re still an Arizonian trash bag with a mild alcohol problem,” Tahani spoke back, evident judgement in her tone.

“Only I get to say that. Else it’s racist.”

“I don’t think-”

“It’s racist.” The interruption should’ve annoyed her, but she found it oddly endearing, just in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed!


	2. Art Shows and Breakdowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Woah dude, this is some real shit!” The distinct voice of a certain Arizonian broke through the fog of her mind. Eleanor, stood, hands in her jacket pockets and a wide grin painting her features. Eyes wide with amazement, she stepped towards the exhibit without regarding the art around them, focus solely on the works before her. 
> 
> “You came?” She didn’t quite have time to recover from her shock and prevent the vulnerability from slipping into her voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I might’ve gotten a bit carried away and wrote a lot of shit, so I split it into 2 more chapters xo I’ve been kinda busy so sorry if there’s any mistakes, enjoy :)

It was a bad idea. An awful, terrible idea. But Tahani couldn’t help herself. Couldn’t help herself from craving that tiny bit of attention from her family. They’d be there, Kamilah would be there, it was the perfect opportunity. Maybe she’d finally be able to show her worth.

Tahani had always been competing with Kamilah. It was almost second nature to her; to assume that there was always somebody to go against, and it intensified, reaching uncharted territories when it came to her sister. So when she was invited to showcase her artwork at an exhibition her sister was showcasing at too, well...she couldn’t really say no. 

Perhaps some part of it was out of her own interest. Art had always been something she’d loved. It was a way to express everything she was feeling without truly expressing it; like hidden meanings in poetry or hiding behind her bedroom door to cry when her parents weren’t listening. It was a way for her to capture the beauty in nature and people, in life, when things didn’t feel so beautiful. But her parents had made her art feel worthless beside Kamilah’s, like something they’d rather rest their feet on than hang up on the wall. This was an opportunity to really show her worth, to have a chance in competing against her sister. For years she’d been soaring high; way out of reach for Tahani—winning music awards and documentary awards for documenting on those music awards and- Tahani had felt so out of depth in everything she was doing. But now...now, she had a chance. Art was familiar, something she loved, and maybe she could get recognised, just this once.

It was foolish of her to think that’d change now—the favouritism, the attention based solely on her sister, even after so many years; and yet she found herself buying supplies at the most prestigious art store - overseas of course, Australia couldn’t possibly hope to accommodate anything worthy of Tahani’s work - and setting up a little art space in her temporary mansion. 

It was a perfectly thought out spot, where the sunlight streamed through a grand window and dusted the canvas in a golden haze. Tahani felt pleasantly warmed as she soaked up the rays; relishing in the peaceful quiet that settled over the space. She found herself thinking of her old friend Bob Ross, what a generous man he’d been, not unlike herself she supposed. 

When the brush first met the canvas, probably the first time she’d painted in years, Tahani felt an odd sense of happiness, of calm, something she hadn’t experienced in a long while when she thought about it. The paint spread smoothly against the empty background, splashes of colour and passion, a freedom to do whatever she liked, create something purely from her imagination without restraint. It felt a bit like flying. 

Once the canvas was filled, she couldn’t quite explain the amount of blues streaked across it, the yellow, almost blonde, sands and- it just made her think of Eleanor. Maybe she should take a break. 

There were others after that (over the course of weeks, Tahani was taking this extremely seriously) of detachment and hatred; of the pain she felt whenever she looked at her parents, looked at Kamilah and was reminded of all that loss and abandonment she felt as a child. There were simple ones too; a flower she’d seen on her way to the university, or a bird perched upon a tree—painted in this elegant way, dainty against the rough bark, light against the dreary skies behind. A beacon of hope, perhaps. They all came together into a beautiful little arrangement, something to be proud of. 

That didn’t stop her fretting over every little detail. Discussing each painting over calls with Banksy—the real banksy, not her sister, who was definitely _ not _the famous artist in spite of the rumours—breaking down every painting and revising any mistakes (not that there were many). She worked tirelessly, even missing sessions with Chidi and the others, even missing meals. All for one art exhibition. One she knew, deep down, would garner no attention from her family, no matter how hard she tried. 

The night of the show had her pacing up and down, straightening each frame countless of times, smoothing out her dress and making sure each strand of hair was perfectly placed. She could see Kamilah—some twisted plot of the universe she supposed—standing near her own work, a casual demeanour about her, as if she hadn’t really fretted at all. Tahani felt herself scowling, and tried to plaster on a smile. 

Having invited a list of celebrities, when the art show began, they turned up and basked in the art, praised her at every turn. She felt an emptiness that couldn’t be filled by their hollow compliments. People marvelled over it all of course, it was outstanding. Impeccable. Yet, there was nobody there that mattered. Tahani felt a loneliness she was altogether used to—watching her parents fuss over Kamilah, an exhibition away, smiles bright with pride. The stabbing pain in her chest had her leaning against the wall, no doubt knocking a painting. They’d glanced in her direction once or twice, and hadn’t even bothered greeting her. Not a simple ‘hello’, not anything. 

Even the university group hadn’t been able to come. Chidi had a late lecture, Simone was seeing family, Jason was watching a jaguars game, and Eleanor had simply not bothered to show up. Perhaps Tahani was foolish in thinking anybody truly cared for her. Especially her parents, who’d blatantly avoided her the entire evening. 

The sudden urge to rip the paintings from the wall overcame her, punching and tearing at the canvases until the only art of hers left was a disjointed puzzle of paint. That would be a great statement. And she would’ve, if it wasn’t for the commotion behind her. 

“Woah dude, this is some real shit!” The distinct voice of a certain Arizonian broke through the fog of her mind. Eleanor, stood, hands in her jacket pockets and a wide grin painting her features. Eyes wide with amazement, she stepped towards the exhibit without regarding the art around them, focus solely on the works before her. 

“You came?” She didn’t quite have time to recover from her shock and prevent the vulnerability from slipping into her voice. 

“Yeah. Sorry I’m a bit late, my Uber driver took the long route and traffic in Sidney can be hectic.” It was all so casual, the apology, the excuse; as if it was completely normal for her to be standing there, looking at Tahani’s art like it was expected of her. Like she should be amazed, like she _ was _ amazed. 

“This is awesome, Tahani,” Voice soft, she nudged Tahani’s shoulder with her own, studying the paintings with a look in her eyes that reminded her of children seeing the first snow of the year. Not that she’d partaken in any of the dillydallying that those sort of children did in the snow. It’s not that she wanted to either, it’s just...she’d seen it in a movie, and here Tahani was denying her want to dive in a heap of snow, a carelessness about her as she made snow angels and wrapped a scarf around a snowman. 

“You’re talented and all that shit,” Eleanor smiled up at her, all warmth in her blue eyes and around her lips, moving her thoughts away from Christmas and snow, to springtime and summer. Icy blues became sea blues, clear sky blues, and that grin of hers was turning cheeky, “Maybe you’re not just a rich girl after all.” 

The wink and the rich girl comment sort of, should’ve ruined the moment, and Tahani was letting her usually organised thoughts become _ thoughtless _ and chaotic; and yet, it didn’t. It added to the warmth in her chest, it expanded that warmth, it had her heartbeat elevating that little bit and suddenly she felt nervous. Like the warmth inside was going to explode out of her in a dance of fire, and she was going to set aflame and die centimetres away from her sister, her parents. Oddly enough, she didn’t really mind. For once, she didn’t care what they thought as she watched Eleanor study her artwork with a kindred enthusiasm and a soft look she didn’t think she’d ever seen. 

“Thank you, Eleanor. It really means a lot.” Tahani choked out, on the verge of tears truthfully; but Eleanor didn’t mention it, she just stood there, examining each detail of every painting. It all seemed a bit surreal, to have somebody’s undivided attention on her work. Not just a distant admiration, but a true awe, especially from somebody she’d slowly been getting close to. Surreal didn’t fit into Tahani’s little boxes, and so she couldn’t help herself from glancing at Kamilah’s art, inspecting every little thing, and glancing at Eleanor with a frown. “Have you seen my sisters exhibition?” 

“Camille’s? Haven’t looked yet, I came straight to yours,” She replied without much thought, eyes locked on one of the canvases. 

“Kamilah’s,” Tahani corrected with a strange feeling of joy at the blatant disregard of the woman.

“I said that, didn’t I?” Eleanor looked up at her, brow furrowed, before glancing around at the other artists. “Where’s this Carmilla’s artwork then?” Tahani pointed at her sister, watching a new crowd of people surround her. “Why are they all licking her ass? I don’t see the big deal.” She scoffed, nudging her again softly. Unable to help it, she snorted—in a rather unladylike fashion—shaking her head at Eleanor’s disregard for the people around them; finding it endearing for once, rather than despicable. 

They walked a little closer, staying far enough to not draw Tahani’s family’s attention. “Everyone loves her,” She spoke softly, allowing the emotions of the night to catch up to her. Perhaps it was pathetic, to still be chasing after something as ridiculous as approval from strangers. But that wasn’t what truly mattered to Tahani, not really. She just wanted her parents to notice her. 

Eleanor, seemingly having caught her line of sight, explicitly trained on the two people one could only assume were Tahani’s parents, wrapped an arm around her waist. “I know how sucky parents can be. Honestly, I don’t know why they’re not flocking around your work. Cecilia just painted some circles, yours is some good, real shit, Tahani.” 

“Kamilah,” She corrected again, unable to hold back the smile on her face. 

“Potato-“

“Potato,” Tahani finished for her, laughing this time at the incredulous look on Eleanor’s face. 

“I’m not that predictable, am I?” She whispered with a flash of horror in her deep, _ blue _ eyes. 

“Oh darling, you say that at least three times a day,” Tahani giggled—actually _ giggled _—a lightness to it, almost carefree. 

“Aw, I’m so glad you noticed,” Eleanor teased, wrapping an arm around Tahani’s waist _again_, sending a warmth across her middle. 

“Oh, be quiet.” 

They stayed like that for a while, walking around the exhibition to look at other people’s work. She’d protested at first, stating she had a duty in responding to questions. But Eleanor had seemed so intent on making fun of the other artworks that Tahani couldn’t help but concede. “That one looks like a lit orgy. Their faces are a bit creepy though, I feel like I’m watching a weird puppet show.” 

“I’m pretty certain that’s an original Picasso.” Tahani mentioned, seeing the name ‘_Les Demoiselles d'Avignon’ _printed beneath. “You just insulted Pablo Picasso.” 

“Who cares about some dead guy? Didn’t he cut off his ear? A crazy dead guy.” She added as an afterthought, sticking her tongue out at an elderly woman’s affronted look. 

Tahani felt mildly embarrassed, but ignored it to answer Eleanor’s question. “That was Vincent van Gogh.” 

“Pic_ay_sso-Picasso,” She joked, and Tahani couldn’t hold back the abrupt laughter that escaped her throat. It echoed across the walls in the exhibition, and the heads turning in their direction only fuelled it; almost hysteric, boiling like lava out of her mouth. Suddenly, it became sobs, and Tahani’s hands were shaking along with her shoulders, and Eleanor was rushing her to a discreet corner of the room, forcing open a window until the cool air bit at her warmed cheeks. 

“That was a good one,” She said in between sharp breaths, wiping her tears. 

“Tahani...are you okay?” There was a soft palm against her back, grounding; a solid comfort. She thought she could feel Eleanor’s own hand shaking, but that could’ve been herself. 

“Yes, of course. I’m grand,” Tahani smiled, suddenly feeling quite small in her elaborate ball gown, reaching down to her ankles. 

“Why did you...start crying?” Eleanor questioned carefully, studying her for any sort of negative reaction. 

“I don’t know,” She said truthfully, finally allowing her posture to slacken, shoulders slumping forwards as she relaxed into the arm close to her side. “I really don’t know.” 

“Okay, okay. Well, do you want to leave?” 

“‘No. No, I’ll stay for a while. Maybe soon, though.” Tahani excused herself to the bathroom, touching up the makeup and wiping away the smudges beneath her eye line. She really had to stop this spontaneous crying of hers; it really wasn’t great for her reputation. _ Damn your reputation. _Was that Chidi or Elenaor’s voice in her head? Oh god, spending time with these people was really changing her. 

Before she had a mental meltdown (again) in the bathroom, Tahani walked back to her exhibition, smiling cheerfully at people in the hopes it resolved any sort of tension in the room after her episode. But the people seemed to have moved on. When she got back to her exhibit, Eleanor was studying a painting carefully, nose almost touching the frame as she got close. 

Clearing her throat, Tahani watched as she stepped back startled, creating a casual distance between herself and the artwork. Quirking an eyebrow up, she smiled, “I’m guessing you like that one?” 

It was one of the paintings she’d spent longest on. It was almost abstract, a mix of colours and images blended together to create a disjointed picture. There were three people in the frame, one separated from the others by angry lines of paint and dark colours. “I don’t wanna be a sap or anything, but- I don’t know, I guess this one kind of speaks to me. How much?” 

“Huh?” Tahani took a while to register the question, too focused on the movement of Eleanor’s face as she spoke and the weight of the words ‘this one kind of speaks to me’. It was silly, really. The words weren’t profound, they didn’t move her, shake up her heart or anything of the sort. And yet, they settled on her chest like a...cloud. Yes, a fluffy cumulus. 

“How much, for the painting?” Eleanor repeated, a bit timidly if the intertwining of her hands and the quietness to her voice were any indication. 

“You want to buy it?” Voice a pitch too high, Tahani regarded Eleanor with an incredulous look. 

“Yeah. How much?” She said with a tone that screamed _ obviously,_ or _ duh _ as Eleanor would likely put it. 

Clearly taken aback, Tahani studied Eleanor for any sign that she was playing with her. There’d been plenty of offers for each of the paintings, and there’d be a bid later in the night, but from Eleanor? “Um...I think it’s a tad out of your price range.” 

“Just tell me the price, Tahani,” She pushed, running a finger along the edge of the frame. 

“I mean, the one you like, the bidding starts at $100,000 but it’ll probably reach over $500,000,” Tahani spoke sheepishly, wincing at Eleanor’s repetitive blinking. 

“Do you know what? It’s the thought that counts,” Eleanor said with a pat to Tahani’s back, looking a little sheepish herself. Feeling her blood thrumming beneath her fingertips, she grinned widely, touched by the sentiment. Truly, it was the thought that counted. “How about we get out of here? You made your appearances, you spoke to some people. I’m starting to feel a bit peckish.” 

* * *

The walk to the Italian restaurant Eleanor had seen on the way over was filled with an odd silence that was neither comfortable nor tense. Tahani could feel the warmth from Eleanor on her right, and the empty, cold of the air to her left. She didn’t quite know what to say, feeling like she’d finally entered reality now that they’d left the exhibition behind. Like her thought processes and the events had finally caught up to her. “I can’t believe I just cried in front of that many people.” The words seemed to echo against the silence, empty, wilting away with the wind like flower petals. 

“I don’t think many noticed,” Eleanor attempted to comfort her, looping an arm around her own. 

“Yes they did. I made a fool of myself,” Tahani whispered, voice breaking and eyes stinging. _ Oh gosh,_ she was an idiot. What on Earth would Eleanor think of her? Crying at the drop of a hat. Now that she thought about it, acting might’ve been a brilliant career path for her. She’d dabbled, but never taken it seriously. Maybe it was time to change that. 

“You didn’t. Nobody even blinked, I’m sure they see that kind of stuff all the time.” She tried and failed to sound optimistic, voice a little too high and strained. 

If it weren’t for Eleanor, she was sure the night would’ve gone down a lot worse. A bit like her near death experience perhaps. She’d have raged blindly, most likely reaching Kamilah’s exhibit with nails at the ready as she ripped down every painting. It would’ve been a field trip for the news, certainly, but an embarrassing pit for her. The gratitude she felt then almost overwhelmed her. “Thank you, Eleanor. For being there.” 

“It’s no problem, dude. You deserve it,” She replied simply, kindly. She’d been so wrong about this woman. 

“I’m usually not this much of a mess,” Tahani defended weakly, squeezing at the arm in her grasp. 

“You’re not at all. I get it, sometimes things can catch up with us at the most inconvenient of times. Do you know I started sobbing over toothbrushes in Target once? Legit, sobbing.” The laugh Eleanor released was full-bellied, unrestrained. Tahani followed, imagining a crying Eleanor in the middle of a supermarket isle. Not that she'd been in a...what did she call it, a Bullseye? Target?

“How did that happen?” 

“I just shoved everything down like always, and it came back to bite me in the ass.” The grimace on her face spoke volumes. Eleanor was not a crier, it seemed.

They continued on in companionable silence until they reached the quaint restaurant, only for Eleanor to groan loudly. “It’s shut.” 

“Well that’s a brilliant end to the night.” She couldn’t deny the deep disappointment she felt then. It was like an anchor settling on the surface of her stomach. All because they’d have to leave one another. _ How pathetic. _She tried to convince herself that it was because of the empty mansion awaiting her, but truthfully, she was enjoying Elenaor’s company a little too much.

“Nuh-uh, we’re not giving up that easy Miss Al-Jamil. Look, there’s a fish and chips place over there, isn’t that like a British delicacy?” She questioned, pointing out a rundown looking building; a neon, blue sign lighting up the cracked pavement with the words _ ‘Fish & Chips’._

“Not a delicacy, but yes, it’s British.” Tahani turned up her nose at the idea, but relented at Eleanor’s insistent ‘_come on, live a little’, _and allowed herself to be dragged along, a hand clasping her own with enthusiasm. She didn’t want to let go, but eventually did as they ordered. 

It didn’t take long for a greasy, paper covered pile of chips to be handed over to them individually, and Eleanor was dragging her out of the shop before she could even grab a tiny fork. They made their way down a cobbled path, chips under their elbows and arms linked, talking quietly between them as to not disturb the residents. It wasn’t that late, barely ten o’clock, but the streets were quiet and fairly empty. 

It wasn’t until they got close to the waterfront that there were more people. A line of bars and restaurants sat on the opposite side of the water, lighting up the atmosphere with music and raucous chatter and laughter. Tahani was taken by the spirit of the place, and suggested they sit near the water. 

She went to sit on an adequate—if not a little _shabby— _looking bench, but was dragged towards the edge of the pathway and forced to sit looking over the water...on the ground…in a ball gown. She realised how ridiculous she must’ve looked, walking around Sydney in a ballgown, and felt oddly out of place. Eleanor reassured her that likely nobody cared as they dug into their chips. 

“These are surprisingly good for the amount of grease on them,” Tahani commented, enjoying the overly salted taste to them. 

“That’s what my ex-boyfriend said when I used cooking oil to cover myself on a nudist beach. It’s safe to say I got sunburnt boobs, but people seem to like them oily.” Elenaor shrugged, and Tahani glanced down at her chest in wonder. How somebody could showcase their naked body in public stumped her. She supposed that not everybody had a line of paparazzi just waiting for a golden shot of them. 

“How wonderful,” She feigned enthusiasm, though not very effectively. It was more of a judgemental enthusiasm than anything. 

Eleanor didn’t seem to notice as she continued eating, almost getting excited. Over greasy breasts. “I know right! I should grease them up more often.” 

“Certainly,” She said, downright sarcastically now, raising her eyebrows and feigning innocence when the blonde narrowed her eyes at her. 

“You’re missing out. My tits happen to look brilliant when they’re greasy,” Eleanor argued, clutching at her chest in defense. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Tahani teased, winking playfully and slowly taking a chip between her teeth. Eleanor seemed mildly taken aback, but didn’t allow herself to fluster. She saw a challenge in her eyes, a flame igniting; the flicker of a lighter. 

“Let’s go to the beach one day and you’ll find out,” She husked out, biting her lip, and Tahani almost blushed. She was sure she _ almost _ did. 

“I can’t wait.” She laughed then, at the absurdity of it. 

The paper around her food rustled as the breeze picked up; salty and warm. The chips felt hot against her hands as she tried to avoid lying them against her dress, and a commotion was starting across the water.

Eleanor shuffled closer, pointing at a man walking away from a group of drinkers with an empty pint glass in his hand. “That man there, I bet he’s got a wife at home watching their two children. Boys, nine and thirteen.” 

“No, I say he’s recently divorced, and has a fourteen year old daughter.” Tahani deliberated; smirking at Eleanor’s unimpressed sneer. 

“Always disagreeing with me,” Shaking her head, she tsked, watching the man as he routed about in his pocket for something. “Paul!” 

“What-”

“Steve?” Eleanor yelled a little louder, and the man continued walking to her dismay. 

“Mike!” Tahani joined in, laughing as Elenaor tried placing a palm over her lips to muffle her voice, to no avail, “Derek!” 

“Harry!” She moved both hands around her mouth, a determined expression taking over her features, and Tahani almost forgot to shout something in favour of watching Eleanor grin and yell excitedly.

“William!” At that, he turned around, and for a split second they thought they’d guessed it, and Eleanor grabbed her arm with an excited squeal. 

“My name’s Randy,” He huffed, shaking his head as he took his wallet from his pocket and made his way to a taxi that had supposedly been waiting for him. 

“Oh,” Eleanor said in disappointment, before shrugging and moving on from the incident altogether. “Come on. What about that girl? I reckon she’s at the University of Sydney studying Business, and her boyfriend is an electrician...although his dream is to become a formula one racer.” 

“That’s...oddly specific.” Tahani snorted—_ gosh,_ Eleanor had to be rubbing off on her, “Everything's pretty accurate, except her boyfriend is a bartender who wishes he’d gone to law school.” 

“I can’t argue with that one.” 

They continued making up stories for the people passing by, occasionally shouting out a random name. The favourite of the night was _ Edna,_ though none of them had been correct. The art show was so far in the back of her mind that she almost forgot it had happened, and she would’ve if it weren’t for the lumbering dress weighing her down. Never had she been more irritated by a gorgeous piece of fabric. 

It was easy to let her hair down— figuratively speaking; she’d never wear her hair up in the first place, she wasn’t some sort of factory worker—around Eleanor. She had this carefree energy that seemed to ooze out of her and seep into Tahani’s body, like a contagious aura. She felt herself become freer, almost lightweight, with each name they shouted and each ridiculous story they came up with. 

Tahani found herself pausing at times, becoming attuned with the way Eleanor’s eyes crinkled at the corners; lips curved at this certain angle that looked incredibly charming; hair moved about with the light breeze from the west - everything she hadn’t allowed herself to notice before. She was, quite frankly, beautiful, with the moonlight reflected in her icy blues that looked ever so warm, highlighting her slightly pink-tinted cheeks and how her eyelashes almost dusted against them everytime she blinked. She was in awe — like she was seeing some sublime aspect of nature; some grande view (without the whole big thing, Eleanor was distinctively petite, but grande in a way that outshined the ugly cobble paths and bland Sydney streets - made them brighter somehow). Tahani truly knew what Edmund Burke was talking about when he said beauty should inflict horror. She was afraid of what the weight of it would do to her, maybe it was her near death experience all over again; except this time the statue was crushing her and that statue was Elenaor’s beauty. 

_Oh God_, she sounded entirely too pathetic. Even if she could appreciate the romantic side of literature; Tahani was even too much for herself, and so thought of all the bad deeds Eleanor had done. It didn’t quite work, but the memory of the smell of tequila and the thought of her shouting at environmentalists somewhat helped. 

Eleanor wasn’t some lady in a Shakespeare play, some girl awaiting marriage in a Jane Austen novel. She was a real, complex woman; with history and a deep rooted vulnerability that she never allowed to shine through her tough exterior. Tahani admired her strength, her brash attitude (even though it had annoyed her to no end) her drive to become a better person, her wit and heart more than any of that beauty _ malarkey._

Maybe she’d been silent for too long, because Elenaor was leaning close and whispering, “Earth to Tahani Al-Jakoda Dackson.” 

“It’s Dakota Jackson.” 

“My bad, Tahani Al-Dakota Jackson.” Eleanor was still a bitch, but she kinda was too. 


	3. Strolls and Pizza Dough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Tahani dreamt of Eleanor reclined against a picnic blanket, sunlight streaming over her golden hair; eyes reflecting the sky with a bed of pink roses surrounding them as they sipped on white wine—freshly chilled from a cooler—she’d deny it. 
> 
> Tahani didn’t pine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I would’ve hoped but I’ve been busyy. Be prepared to see Eleanor spelt like Elenaor (I genuinely corrected it about 15-20 times just now), my phone got so used to me mistyping it, it didn’t bother to underline it or correct it lmao. Anyway, hope you enjoy x

* * *

It wasn’t until it reached eleven o’clock that the pair finally booked an Uber - they’d share it, Tahani insisted that HeirUber was decidedly better than the bog standard car service the commoners used. Eleanor had protested, only because her motel was in the opposite direction of Tahani’s..._place— _they’d resorted to calling it that after a discussion on whether it was a mansion or a b&b—but she’d insisted. 

The expensive leather seats of the Bentley were a nice transition from the hard concrete of the floor, but Tahani apologised nevertheless, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get a better car at such a short notice.” 

“Tahani...we’re in a Bently,” She said in perplexity, shaking her head with wide eyes. 

“Yes, I always thought they were a little outdated. I would’ve much preferred a Rolls Royce, specifically the one I used this morning. I’m sure you must think the worst of me.” There was a sincere worry in her voice as she refused to make eye contact. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever _ touched _a car so fancy, Tahani. You’re fine,” Eleanor reassured, reaching for her hand resting against the seat between them and gripping it softly. Before she might’ve thought it pretentious, snobbish, Tahani’s distaste with the Bentley, but she knew she only wanted to please the people around her; win their good opinion. It was a desperate sort of effort, one she related to in a sense. “As they say, you wouldn’t put a bumper sticker on a Bentey.” 

“Oh God no, those things are atrocious!” Tahani almost gasped, holding a hand to her heart as if she’d heard some awful news. 

“I always knew the Kardashians were intelligent deep down,” Eleanor spoke proudly, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. 

“I was at a party with Kris and my good friend Ell-” At Eleanor’s surprisingly intimidating pointed glare, Tahani shut up.

The quiet rumble of the engine settled over Tahani like a blanket; reminding her of the time as she watched streetlights pass in splashes of colour, allowing the exhaustion to weigh on her. She slumped further into the seat and rested her head against Eleanor’s shoulder, intertwining their arms as her eyelids began to feel heavy. 

“Are you tired?” Eleanor’s voice sounded muffled and distant through her shoulder, and she felt a hand begin carding through her hair. She hummed back in answer, lifting the smaller woman’s arm about her and settling into her side with a content sigh. 

Looking up, Tahani’s gaze locked onto blue orbs watching her, seeing something akin to adoration with a soft smile on Eleanor’s face. “You’re comfy.” She said, to avoid mentioning the striking blue of her eyes in the darkness of the car as lights flashed by and made them light up every once in a while. It was mildly awkward, the way her body had to crouch and fold up like a chair in order to reach her, but worth it really. 

“So are you, surprisingly. I thought you’d be all jabby with your bones,” Eleanor teased, and Tahani watched her swallow before looking out the window to watch the passing buildings, lit up lanterns against the black sky, instead. 

She hummed again, throat too tight to voice a response. A brightly lit sign cast a glimmer against the window, the words ‘_Paco Rabanne’ _ printed at the bottom. Eleanor shifted against her, apologising quietly at Tahani’s muttered protests, resting a hesitant palm against her shoulder. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing up, studying the reflection in her eyes, the highlights of her skin and cheekbones. The cutting edge to her nose and jaw. Eleanor seemed to be reading the sign, or just staring into space, unaware of Tahani’s attention. 

Finding herself not wanting to let go, not wanting the night to end and things to go back to normal; where they merely tolerated each other, occasional bickering here and there, an insult after every _ friendly _conversation, Tahani held on tighter. Watching her closely as if looking away would make her disappear. 

It wasn’t enough to get her to stay, enough to hold onto everything, because when she opened her eyes, the seat beside her was cool and Tahani was alone. The driver had nudged her awake, offering to help her out of the car, but she brushed down her hair and stepped out herself. 

It felt like a dismissal, departing without a goodbye. It proved all of Tahani’s fears right. She didn’t know why she even cared. Elenaor was _ infuriating,_ even if she had been there for her for one night, it didn’t change that fact. She started to question why she found the woman so infuriating—excluding all of her negative traits—and thought that maybe, potentially, it was Tahani’s strange attraction to her; like a moth to a flame, that got on her nerves truly. Her annoyingly pretty face, irritating pretty laugh, exasperating pretty, carolina blue eyes. _ Oh god_, Tahani could’ve done with a couple of those awful tequila shots Eleanor liked so much. 

If only her parents could see her, getting smitten with a woman from Arizona. Namely a brash, low status woman, also a _ woman, _God forbid any of the Al-Jamils stop the bloodline from carrying on. Not that they were all that bothered with what Tahani did, as long as they had Kamilah. 

It didn’t help that Eleanor clearly didn’t care about Tahani all that much, excluding her supportiveness that night, but she probably felt trapped in an awkward situation with one of her only _ friends_. All of these thoughts jumped about her mind in erratic flashes as she went through her nightly routine on autopilot, and only quietened when she saw a message from the woman in thought, _ think of the devil. _

_ I hope you got back okay, I didn’t want to wake you so thank you for the amazing night. You should be really proud Tahani, your art was fucking incredible. Thanks for inviting an Arizonian trash bag to such a fancy event ;) _

Tahani laughed, a watery laugh; words blurring slightly across the screen, before she blinked back the tears and inhaled sharply. The message was standard: a thank you, a compliment, a classic Eleanor Shellstrop self deprecating joke, and yet it was completely unorthodox. At least for Eleanor. She could tell the joke was a way to lighten it all, yet it didn’t take away the weight of her words, it didn’t take away the hope that maybe everything wouldn’t go back to normal and they could just _ be _ the way they were; sitting at the waterfront, making up stories for Jenny and Percy, laughing between themselves whilst they ate greasy, rather repulsive, food. 

It wasn’t like Tahani to enjoy silly, little things like that. To cherish them. She usually preferred expensive suits and fancy restaurants, the wine and dine sort of deal, ever so romantic beneath dim lighting with French food and the best wine on the menu. Yet, she supposed none of those relationships had lasted, and none of them had made her feel the way she did sitting carelessly on some cracked concrete, eating overly greased chips. _ Chips _ , that were only four Australian dollars. She sounded like some naive schoolgirl with a crush. Taha _ didn’t _ pine, people pined after _ her. _

She answered the text with a thank you for being there in her low moments of the night, and the highs, even ending it with a little _ x_. Tahani didn’t pine. That would be absurd. 

If Tahani dreamt of Eleanor reclined against a picnic blanket, sunlight streaming over her golden hair; eyes reflecting the sky with a bed of pink roses surrounding them as they sipped on white wine—freshly chilled from a cooler—she’d deny it. 

Tahani _ didn’t _pine. 

* * *

The first thing Tahani saw when she stepped inside their usual room was a blinding smile from Eleanor. It was almost like a secret smile, one only she could understand. The others carried on with what they were doing, unaware of the moment passing between them as she smiled back just as widely, and was reminded of her dream. Perhaps she was pining.

“Look who it is, the artist of the evening!” Eleanor announced with a cheeky wink, walking over and gesturing towards her widely. Tahani laughed, watching as the others clapped, swooning at the attention. 

“You flatter me,” She said humbly, placing a hand to her heart. 

“Guys, you missed out big time,” Eleanor spoke proudly, addressing the others with a smug voice that said _ I got to be there and you didn’t_. “Tahani’s art was amazing.” 

“I’m so sorry I missed it,” Simone apologised regretfully, followed by Chidi. Jason just yelled something about the Jaguars winning, and that Tahani’s art must’ve acted as a lucky charm. 

“Thank you, everybody, but you should be glad you didn’t attend. I did the same thing I did at Kamilah’s event with my near death experience; had a public meltdown. And that just won’t do. I recognise that I deserve to be here with you all.” Looking at the point of her heels, Tahani wrung her hands together. She took a seat against one of the desks to quieten the urge to move her feet about on the spot. 

“At least this time you have people by your side,” Eleanor placed an arm around Tahani’s shoulders (only accomplished by the fact she was standing) offering a supportive squeeze. Maybe it was okay that she deserved to be here; at least then she had somewhere she could truly fit in. Somewhere she didn’t have to worry about polite pretences and status. 

“Thank you.” 

It wasn’t until the end of the session that Eleanor pulled her into a private corner, biting at the inside of her cheek and avoiding Tahani’s eyes. “Okay, Tahani, don’t freak out…but I may have done something.”

“Eleanor, what have you done?” The panic in her voice couldn’t be missed, and Eleanor winced visibly. Before Tahani could provoke a response out of her further, the words started rushing out of her without the slightest of pauses.

“Okay, so...when you were in the bathroom, word may have gotten around at the exhibition that I have familial links to Monet. Word may also have gotten around that I started a pHd in the History of Art but dropped it because I knew everything already, and was too good. Word may also have gotten around that I have very close relationships with notorious art critics, which triggered the art critics there that were supposedly jealous they didn’t know me into getting to know me, which may have led to me putting in a good word for you...and putting in a bad word for your sister - who they noted I didn’t know the name of. Which may have lead to your art going viral and being bid at crazy amounts and Carmeela’s flopping, but anyway.” 

Finishing with a tight smile and a breath of relief, Eleanor turned on her heel to walk away. “Wait!” Tahani grabbed her wrist, spinning her back around with wide eyes, unable to form any coherent sentences in her mind. 

“I- how?” She finally asked, blinking rapidly. “How did you do all that in such little time?”

“I’m fast with my tongue?” She hazarded, only to be slapped on the shoulder. 

“Eleanor, now is not the time to make sexual innuendos,” Tahani scolded, certainly _ not _imagining any situations with her fast tongue. 

“Okay...sorry. I don’t know, there were a lot of fancy people there and I happen to be an _ awesome _liar,” She half boasted, half cringed, trying her best to seem at least a tad apologetic. 

“I don’t know whether or not to be concerned about that.” 

“That’s not the point, Tahani. The point is...your art is trending, and it’s all because of me.” The apologetic tone had disappeared altogether, in favour of arrogant Eleanor. 

“Yes, all because of your lies,” Tahani tried to remain unbothered, tried to pretend to be annoyed rather than elated that somebody would go to such lengths to get her recognised. She guessed it started out as something fun, and evolved into something else, but the outcome played heavily in her favour, and she supposed she should be a little thankful. But now was the time to be angry, and so she remained resolute, ignoring the urge to see _ how _trending Eleanor had said she was, and whether or not that was an exaggeration. 

“Oh, and people are slagging off your sister,” She added offhandedly, yet the glimmer in her eye said it’d been purposeful. A ruse to get her to accept the absurdity of this. And it worked. 

“Let me see.” Tahani reached for Eleanor’s phone, which had been open on Twitter the whole time, she’d noticed but decided to ignore it, stubbornness and all. 

It turned out that ‘Tahani Al-Jamil’ was the number one hashtag, with ‘Kamilah Al-Jamil’ at third, and she didn’t think she’d been happier. Well, there was this odd sort of joy. At the praise she read from that point on, and then the less positive comments about her sister. There was praise of Eleanor too, about how down to earth and casual she’d seemed, how critical and technical she’d been in analysing the paintings—that definitely garnered a chuckle from Tahani, but Eleanor was sure she was actually a great art critic, “You Just have to say things like tone and juxtaposition.”

It seemed like everything she’d been waiting for. And yet, there was this hollowness. Not unlike what she’d felt when her guests had shown up and praised the paintings. Not unlike when countless celebrities gave reviews on her book, when they complimented her party designs and dresses. It was almost anti-climatic, and she wasn’t all that happy. Maybe for a fleeting moment, but it soon faded away and she was left with this emptiness that couldn’t be filled by anything material. It was almost a longing for something else, and perhaps it was her parents. 

“You seem sad. Why are you sad?” Eleanor sounded almost panicked, like her grand plan had failed; crashed and burned to the ground. “People are digging you.” 

“I don’t care about people,” She hushed under her breath, “I don’t know.” At the flash of concern on Eleanor’s face, she plastered on a smile, scrolling a little further through all the praise. “I’m being silly. It’s wonderful, oh, look what my dear friend Oprah said, what a darling.” 

_ People love you. People love your artwork. Oprah said your works were masterpieces, Beyoncé said the flight to Australia had been entirely worth it. _

Wasn’t she meant to be staying away from all of this? The spotlight, the attention? It was like a drug, the fleeting feelings she got when everybody loved her for just a moment. And yet now, she was comparing it to watching Jason explain his Jacksonville version of pool, talking with Chidi about literature, making fun of Eleanor’s attempts at pretending to be a lawyer with Simone, and sitting on some atrocious concrete and a less than adequate leather seat of a Bentley with Eleanor beside her. It was as if her life was only shadows before, and now she’d stepped into the sunlight and seen what happiness truly was, what life truly was. “I think I need to avoid art shows from this point onwards. Or any sort of shows. Thank you for getting me noticed, Eleanor.” 

“Of course, you deserved it bud.” A warm palm against her bare forearm, sunlight. 

“Chidi, can you go over that lesson on Plato’s cave once more?” 

* * *

The frame felt slippery in her grasp; the result of sweaty palms..._ how atrocious_. Tahani _ didn’t _ get clammy hands. And yet, here she was, stood in a dingy, little hallway with an elaborate frame covered with a fine, white cloth - slipping every now and then. Taking a deep breath, Tahani knocked on the door, picturing flakes of paint peeling off to reveal a rotting oak, but surprised to see the ugly, green shade intact. 

Eleanor seemed about as surprised at the sight of Tahani as she was about her sweaty palms. “What...are you doing here?” 

“I brought you a gift,” Tahani greeted rather sheepishly, holding up the white cloth and attempting a casual smile. It felt a little forced as she tried to swallow down her nerves. Another thing that Tahani didn’t often experience (unless it was concerning her parents, but even with them she’d slowly gotten over the stupid jittery feeling she felt); nerves.

“You did?” Eleanor questioned dumbly, looking between the frame and Tahani at lightning speed. She was wearing some light jeans and a pink sweater, a little odd for such a warm day, but she was from Arizona after all. 

“Yes.” The confirmation brought an awkward silence as she stood in the doorway, the gift in question straining her wrist. “Are you going to let me in?”

“Oh. Yeah, come in,” She stood aside, gesturing towards a pile of clothes and empty cans littered around in random places. “Ignore the mess.” 

It was rather unsatisfactory, the mess, but not awful. The room was quite like that too. Bland, simple, plain. Except for the drapes, _ gosh _ , that pattern and colour did _ not _go well with the rest of the room. The pattern by itself was utterly inexcusable, drawing the attention of anybody that entered the room she was sure, and Tahani tried not to frown too much, frown lines and all. It mustn’t have worked, because Eleanor noticed her staring, and shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. “It’s not the best place, but it’s okay.” 

“Of course, I think it’s rather...comfortable,” She tried to sound sincere, she really did. 

After a minute or two of Tahani surveying the room whilst Eleanor picked up some of the rubbish on the floor, neatening clothes and straightening the bed, she finally gestured towards the frame. “So, this gift?” 

Instead of explaining it, Tahani held it out for her to take, smiling at Eleanor’s doubtful expression. “It won’t bite.” 

“I’m not scared you idi- _ ugh_. I’m not used to receiving presents.” Reaching out hesitantly, she pulled it out of Tahani’s grasp, looking a little self conscious. 

“Open it,” She urged, watching excitedly as Eleanor pulled off the sheet, letting it drop to the floor with a flourish. On a yellow post-it note; a shocking contrast to the blend of muted tones and bronze-gold framework, were the words ‘_Reserved for Eleanor Shellstrop’. _

“You got your painting reserved for me?” Voice a mix of shock and awe, she regarded the painting with wide doe eyes, an image of a child on Christmas Day, taking in all the neatly wrapped presents beneath a Christmas tree with a childlike wonder—not that that was something she was awfully familiar with. Her parents weren’t that fond of Christmas, Christmas trees were messy and stereotypical, and most of their gifts weren’t anything to be overly excited about. 

“Well, I got it reserved for the famous art critic of the evening, but Pic_ay_so-Picasso,” Tahani winked, leaning forwards and smiling widely. 

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.” 

“Thank you?” She suggested, pushing the painting towards the speechless woman. 

“Of course. Thank you, Tahani.” Resting it against the wall, Eleanor wrapped her arms around Tahani’s waist—almost like an ambush, a mini person ambush—sweater sleeves brushing against her back, grip surprisingly strong for somebody who was half her size. 

Placing her arms around Eleanor’s shoulders, Tahani basked in the warmth. She was a rather good hugger, but that might’ve been from her teensy height and the appreciation rather than her hugging skills. She didn’t think the woman would have much experience in hugs, and that was an observation rather than a judgement; she didn’t get close to many people. 

“I love it,” She cooed once they were a safe distance apart, and she was gazing over each and every corner, running a finger along the side with this complete look of awe. “You’re more talented than my pinky finger.” 

“Oh, don’t be silly. You’re great at downing shots,” Tahani offered, holding back a grin at Eleanor’s delighted look, as if she’d just realised her potential. 

“You’re right. I am talented,” She beamed, pumping a fist in the air. Tahani could only laugh. 

She hovered about as Eleanor safely placed the painting in a corner of the room, ensuring she’d hang it up later, watching her shift her hair behind her ears and pat her legs once she’d finished; as if she’d just put together a piece of furniture and was surveying it proudly. The sun was filtering through a murky looking window, creating this golden glow around her, and so Tahani couldn’t quite prevent the invitation from spilling from her lips, “It’s quite a pleasant day today, would you like to go for a stroll?”

Eleanor glanced outside, quirking her eyebrows up at the clear skies, “Yeah, okay. I could do with some sun.” 

“Great.”

“Let me just get my shades,” She pattered over to the dresser with her blue, fluffy socks that looked rather comfortable despite the awful design, sliding them onto her head with a wink in Tahani’s direction. “What shoes?” 

Eleanor pointed to some tattered high tops with a variety of pinks that _ shouldn’t _ have been mixed together, and a rather clean pair of white adidas trainers that looked well kempt, something rather shocking. “The white ones.” 

“Aight dude.”

They left once Eleanor had faffed about with shoes and changed her sweater for a thinner shirt, which she’d done right before Tahani’s eyes to her utter mortification; immediately spinning on her heel when she saw the black lace brassiere beneath. At least it was a nice view, and she wasn’t clad in some faded, grey sports bra. She tried not to dwell on it afterwards. _ Tried _ being the key word. 

The shift in ambience and tone was a welcome delight to Tahani once they’d left the motel behind and the sun seemed a little brighter. Eleanor was chatting about one of her old roommates and how she’d always wanted to go to Australia, but the thought of tarantulas scared her too much. Tahani wasn’t fond of spiders either, and said as much. “Don’t worry babe, when we’re married, I'll get the spiders for you.” The idea shouldn’t have sounded in any way appealing, but the way Eleanor lifted her sunglasses and winked with a sly grin as she said it, well, it almost did. 

The nagging in the back of her mind that she was, in fact, pining, just wouldn’t shut up. It was supposed to be relaxing, walking beneath the sun that felt just a little too hot for Tahani; taking in the scenery that looked a little too bright; talking to Eleanor who seemed just a little too infuriating_. _It was all a bit of a mess for Tahani’s brain. She felt disoriented almost. 

She was sure she was about to combust right then and there, in a flash of flame and smoke, a beautiful death really_. _ Like a Phoenix. Something to be remembered by. _ Tahani Al-Jamil bursts into flames beneath the Sydney sun._ What a beautiful headline. Eleanor would probably be stood stockstill, stunned, silent, speechless. The people around them would perhaps scream, but there’d be a sort of awe about them. 

Eleanor was talking about Simone and Chidi now, and Tahani nodded along dumbly. Ruminating, wondering whether Eleanor was attracted to her, interested in her, or was just a natural flirt. Whether she truly did like women, or if it was all apart of her act. Apart of her _ shindig_. Just flirty Eleanor, flirting with her _ gal pals_. Perhaps she was having a crisis. 

Her palms felt sweaty again and Eleanor had stopped talking in favour of looking at her in this way, this _ way _she’d seen before. Where a little crinkle appeared between her eyebrows and her lips pursed a little. They looked ever so kissable then, and Tahani was freaking out a little more. What on Earth was happening to her? This feeling was extremely foreign. She usually just went with the flow, basked in the romance of everything, and here she was, walking about Sydney with an Arizonian nobody wondering what her lips tasted like and getting all frazzled about it. 

“Eleanor, do you like women?” She really needed to stop blurting things out, but she’d always been a little outspoken when it came to digging for answers. Some would say she didn’t have much of a filter, Tahani would say she was a curious woman.

“No dur. Have you seen Simone? She’s one attractive lady. Have you seen yourself, even?” She added with a cheeky little grin, which was sure to be wiped off with Tahani’s next words.

“It’s just...I’ve been finding it quite difficult to rid myself of the urge to kiss you,” Calm and calculated (thankfully, Tahani was sure it’d come out all broken and stuttered) as if she were merely commenting on the weather—God knows the Brits _ loved _ to do that—her words did, in fact, wipe the grin off her face. 

“Uh…what?” For a split second, Tahani felt a flash of panic—atop all the other quiet panic she’d been feeling before. Like she’d completely misread the situation, and Eleanor didn’t in fact find her all that attractive. Well, of course she found her attractive, that much was _ obvious_, but perhaps not in a way she’d like to act upon. Yet, the look of disbelief on Eleanor’s face seemed just that...disbelief; not disgust, not discomfort, not whatever a face somebody made when somebody offered to kiss them and they didn’t want to. 

“Eleanor,” Tahani spoke in exasperation, holding onto her shoulders with a deathly grip that seemed to shake her out of any and all confusion. 

“Why try to rid yourself of it?” There was a moment where they just looked at one another, as if weighing up the situation. Tahani thought she’d never seen Eleanor’s eyes so hopeful, so anticipatory - flitting around her face almost maniacally. The sun felt too hot, the air too still, Tahani’s palms were definitely sweating, but, _ goddamn, fudge it. _

In a rash, split second decision, she leant forwards—quite a way down, Eleanor was a short woman—and pressed their mouths together. She felt an arm snaking around her waist, a hand grasping onto her dress desperately as if trying to clutch onto the tendrils of a dream as she grazed a finger tenderly against a cheek, leaning into the kiss. Eleanor’s lips were much softer than she’d imagined, gentle yet firm; a solid, unyielding force that had her breathless, yet delicate all at once. 

The near combustion she’d felt before had all but quietened to a steady hum that followed the beat of her pulse, somehow erratic and calm, quiet and loud. Tahani didn’t know whether she was feeling her own quickened blood flow, or Eleanor’s beneath her fingertips at her neck. She felt overwhelmed; amidst strobe lights and blaring music at a frat party—what she imagined one would feel at a frat party, disoriented, overwhelmed by flashes of colour—but all she was focused on was Eleanor. 

The knowledge that they were in fact in public, and it wasn’t just the two of them, dawned on Tahani, and she pulled back. The hot air seemed cold against her lips, and she absentmindedly pressed her thumb to them as she watched Eleanor’s eyes open widely from being scrunched up rather adorably. “Holy guacamole.” 

“Holy guacamole indeed,” Tahani agreed, smiling in what one could only assume was a goofy manner. 

Eleanor’s dazed smile and wide eyes shifted into a cringe, “Ah shit. Holy guacamole will forever be the first thing I said after our first kiss.”

“Better put it in our wedding vows. Or we could try again,” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and raised an eyebrow suggestively, laughing as Eleanor began to nod frantically. 

“Wait,” There was a soft palm placed against her shoulder as she began to lean forwards, and she moved back to see Eleanor chewing on her lip.

“Is there a problem?” 

“No, you’re good hot stuff,” She assured, shuffling on the spot, a foot rising off the ground to rub against her leg like a flamingo. “I hate to be the one to ask, but what does this mean to you? Is my hot bod too irresistible, or do you have all those emotions attached?” There was a vulnerability about her voice that sobered Tahani up, and she no longer felt the need to ravage her, but rather hold her close. _ Gosh_. _ I really am becoming a hopeless romantic. Eleanor would likely call me a ‘sap’. _

“Well, you do have quite an irresistible bod, no matter how small it is,” She joked, though she wasn’t really joking at all. “But I like you a lot, Elenaor. You make me feel free.”

“Okay, okay Kate Winslet, this isn’t the Titanic,” Eleanor snorted, trying to conceal it behind her palm. 

“Eleanor.” The scolding tone was enough to get her to quieten. “It’s true. I don’t get that often. I always have to pretend to be all prim and proper at all times, reserved, Tahani Al-Jamil; the rich socialite who holds charitable balls for non-profit organisations. Even in relationships. But, I can just be Tahani with you. Whether that be prim and proper Tahani, who’s afraid of double denim...actually, all forms of Tahani are afraid of double denim, but that’s besides the point.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow with a soft smile, cocking her head to the side in what looked like wonder, or adoration perhaps. The way you look at a puppy on the street. Although, she usually tried to avoid puppies on the street, no matter how cute they were, they were often quite dirty. 

“Where was I? Oh yes. Whether that be prim and proper Tahani, or laid back tahani, sat on the floor eating the greasiest food I’ve ever come across in my life,” She finished with a Tahani flourish, an elegant laugh and a wave of her hand, as if she’d just name dropped a thousand celebrities. A sheepishness that sounded faux, but was entirely Tahani. “Wow, I think I’m getting a little ahead of myself. We haven’t known each other for an _ awfully _long time and- I feel as if it’s time to stop talking.” 

“Wow, Tahani. I never knew you were so gay.” At Tahani’s exasperated look, she softened. “I’m just kidding. I like you too. I mean, I’m usually pretty bitchy and mean, apart from when I became a good person for six months and worked for an environmentalist group. But, I don’t know, you make me wanna be better and all that crap.” 

“I do?” Tahani said with a wonder about her voice. 

“Totally man. You make me see that sometimes it’s nice to have somebody in your corner, rather than being alone and relying on yourself, even if you’re pretty infuriating. You’re a good person, dude. And you also have a rockin’ bod.” Eleanor leant into her with a grin. 

“Thank you,” She spoke softly, barely a whisper. 

“Thank _ you_, Tahani.” With a squeeze of her hand, Eleanor’s soft demeanour became steelier, “Now, about that second kiss?” 

  


* * *

Standing in a less than satisfactory kitchen the next day, with a ghastly apron wrapped around her waist and a stupid chefs hat perched on her head, in the middle of the day no less, would not have been Tahani’s idea of a perfect date. But it felt pretty darn close. 

She supposed it wasn’t really the setting that impacted how perfect it felt, but rather the company, who was _ trying _ and _ failing _ to knead the dough into a _ less than _ perfect circle. “I’m telling you, Tahani, there’s something wrong with the flour or something.” Wrinkling up her nose, she prodded at a bulge in the circle, if it could even be called that, and shot a frown in Tahani’s direction. Eleanor looked more polished than usual, liked she’d put a little more effort into her appearance. She was still dressed rather casually, they were making pizzas after all, but there was a little more makeup, a little more _ something _that stood out. Not that it mattered, but Tahani appreciated the thought. 

“It’s not the flour, I’m rather certain it’s you,” Tahani giggled, Eleanor really did make her a little _ swoony, _and shook her head. “With a little practise, I’m sure you’ll master it.” 

“Tahani, you’ve barely touched your dough,” Eleanor reminded, poking a finger at the lump of floured dough, untouched before the little pest started prodding at it. 

Swatting her hand away, she looked at it with a grimace. “It looks…messy.” 

“That’s the point,” She tried poking at it again, only to be stopped by a delicate palm wrapping around her wrist. “Do you want me to show you how to do it by putting my arms around you from behind?” 

The idea seemed mildly appealing, and she might’ve accepted if it were anybody but Eleanor. But that’s not how they were together. Tahani didn’t feel the need to strive to be in some kind of love movie, didn’t flutter her eyelashes and force a closeness that ended up making her a little claustrophobic. They were natural and silly, loose and free. She didn’t need any of the foolish things she might’ve imagined beforehand, with some baywatch gentlemen she felt very little towards emotionally. 

“We’re not in some cheesy romantic comedy,” Tahani said with a small grin, trying not to encourage her but failing quite miserably with the little frown on Eleanor’s face that really just made her want to grab her cheeks. Well...maybe she still felt a little romantic. 

“Yeah, but you’re pretty cheesy,” Elenaor snorted before smearing a handful of mozzarella down the side of her face. The grin was wiped straight off. 

“You did not!” Tahani gasped, dropping the misshapen dough she’d just managed to pick up onto the desk and spinning on her heel, jaw reaching the floor. So much for romantic cheek squeezing. 

“I so did,” She pursed her lips; holding back a laugh, and Tahani felt an anger wash over her at the smug little glint in her eyes. 

“You little...I will get you back for that, Eleanor Shellstrop!” Tahani promised, before reaching for a heap of flour and throwing it in the woman’s direction. It landed squarely on her face. 

Blinking a few times, Eleanor watched as it drifted to the floor from her eyelashes like little snowdrops. “Tahani!” She spluttered as flour entered her mouth, coughing and making a fuss. It covered her entire front, lumps mixed up in her hair, flaking away onto her shoes. 

“You shouldn’t have started it,” She replied haughtily, folding her arms and trying not to laugh at the white powder caking Eleanor’s face. 

“Oh, I’ll be finishing it,” Eleanor assured before reaching for the tomato purée, which, in hindsight...Tahani should’ve prepared for. It was too late, before she’d even managed to blink a squirt of red was flying at her face and across her apron, traces dotting her designer dress and- Eleanor was going to pay. 

She’d only just managed to get the onions and peppers tangled up in her hair before one of the employees walked in and stopped them, face an image of shock. He’d stuttered over his words at first, but eventually ran off to get the manager. It’s safe to say, they were kicked out. 

“I’ve never been thrown out of any establishment before! Let alone on a date!” Tahani had rambled on afterwards, tomato purée on her cheek, how _ ghastly _the whole ordeal was. They were lucky the paparazzi weren’t lurking about. 

“And you say we’re not in a cheesy rom-com? I’d say food fights are pretty cliche.” Eleanor sniggered, shying away from the swat of Tahani’s palm. “And getting kicked out of places.”

“Not for Tahani Al-Jamil! Food should be in our mouths, not on our bodies! And I’m much too refined to be kicked out of anywhere.” 

“That pizza place begs to differ. And whipped cream is an exception,” She said with a wink, smiling cheekily, “Or chocolate sauce.” 

“No. I can’t condone that, that sounds entirely too messy.” Tahani remained resolute, quirking her eyebrow at Eleanor’s cocky shrug. 

“I’m sure I can change your mind.”

After the two failed to come to an agreement about food in the bedroom, they decided to head to the university early and wait for the others there. It might’ve been a bit silly to go on a date before a group meeting, especially a date where they ended up covered in flour and tomato purée, and yet Eleanor had insisted it be the next day, before Tahani changed her mind and didn’t fancy making pizzas anymore. 

Although getting to the university early wasn’t a problem, Chidi left the room unlocked before his lecture to allow them to go in, and it’s not as if they’d be thrown out without his presence...it may not have been the brightest idea to make out on a desk before the others arrived. Tahani blamed it on the tension from the food fight, and the fact that Eleanor looked considerably attractive in that white shirt, even if it had tomato stains and a dusting of flour. 

That’s how they ended up with Eleanor sat up on a desk, an arm looped around Tahani’s neck as their lips moved together and the other hand steadily got closer to her chest. She wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, but it seemed rather foolish to do _ this _moments before a group meeting, even if they were early. It seemed her inhibitions had pretty much vanished, however, as Eleanor began to nip at her neck and hook a finger beneath her dress strap. “Goodness,” She breathed out as the mouth at her neck got more insistent, and—

“_Oh-_kay,” A high pitched voice accompanied the bang of a door against a wall, “We do not want to go in there!” 

“What? Oh, look! The hotties are getting it on.” Simone followed closely behind Chidi, who’d successfully turned his back from them, as Tahani began to push Eleanor away and pull at her strap. She felt entirely disheveled; lipstick smudged, dress ruffled and shifted to the side, strap still halfway down her shoulder. 

Eleanor didn’t look much better; hair sticking up at the side, Tahani’s lipstick streaked across her lips, and yet she looked rather blasé about it, despite her initial shock. “So...yeah. This is a thing now.” She said, swiping at her lower lip. “Get used to it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to add the date scene and onwards but oh well, I wrote it so why not add it? This was fun to write so I really hope you enjoyed it, and enjoy the rest of season 4!


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